iLL Be Yours If You Be Mine
by twowritehands
Summary: Freddie and Sam thought first kisses were a big deal. Carly and Gibby have a better idea about which First in life is worth worrying about. This will be an arrangement between friends. And sheets.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: these aren't really ours to play with but someone said it was okay to borrow them…_

…

**Chapter One: iDo It**

Of the three of them, Freddie lost it first.

Yeah, it came as shock for them, too.

It was junior year, Carly was enjoying having gone up a cup size, Sam was enjoying having finally passed geometry on her second try never to have to look at it again, and Freddie was enjoying his first real relationship. The girl was pretty, and funny, and helpful on the show, so not even Sam could find a reason to hate her.

What started as a meeting at the Groovy Smoothie like hundreds of others quickly became something quite shocking.

Freddie bounced and blushed in his seat as he craned around to make sure his girlfriend had not arrived yet. He couldn't even wait until his friends were properly seated at the table before saying, "Guess what?"

"Your rash went away." Sam said, dropping into her seat with a muffin fresh off T-Bo's stick.

"I don't have a rash!" Freddie groaned. Sam snorted. Carly giggled, decided to toss a guess of her own out there, and asked with a shrug,

"Your mom is allowing you to take hot showers again?"

Sam laughed heartedly, gave Carly a high-five for the low blow. The poor guy hadn't been allowed anything but cold ones since… Well, since the embarrassing and combined failures of a bedroom door lock and a mother's duty to knock first. (Sam's doing. Her pranks against him were beginning to get more and more elaborate, and personal.)

Freddie glowered at Carly's guess, then waved it off, his initial excitement too great to be derailed by the evidence that Sam was rubbing off far too much on Carly. He leaned forward and, speaking lowly, gushed it all out, "On my date with Alana over the weekend, we went _all the way_!"

There was a pause, in which stares went all around.

It was redefining of the nerd, and for a moment neither of the girls who were his friends-but-not-his-girlfriends-anymore, were at a loss. They understood what he was saying, couldn't put pictures with the meaning, couldn't get around the shock of hearing it from him before they'd ever said it themselves. And the blow to the self-esteem that such a thing administered was distracting.

Surely, _surely_, Sam would have been the first to have that kind of news to throw into their We Tell Each Other Everything Pact. Even Carly thought she'd have known—_that_—before her technical producer, who still had Galaxy Wars sheets and went as Nug Nug to the conventions every year. Seriously, it didn't make sense.

"Yeah, right!" Sam pushed air through her teeth and rolled her eyes.

"It's true." He didn't shout it, didn't even whine it. Just said it, smooth and collected. His confidence in the matter was truly irritating. Carly didn't blame Sam for smacking that self-satisfied look off his face.

"What's wrong with the chick?" Sam asked.

"Nothing!" Freddie cried, then added in a low tone, wagging his eyebrows, bringing back that confidence, "_Absolutely_ nothing."

Carly smacked him that time. Sure, they were his best friends, but that didn't give him permission to talk to them like they were guys.

"There must be _something_ wrong with her." Sam continued with a shrug, talking with her straw clenched between her teeth. "She wouldn't sleep with you if there wasn't."

"Hey!" Freddie said, holding his twice-slapped cheek, "Alana was—_with me_—because she _happens_ to be eternally in love with me!"

Carly cracked up laughing here with Sam joining her. No one actually _said_ stuff like that! No matter what he said to try to convince them otherwise, they were inclined not to believe his news … But then Alana arrived and confirmed it all when Sam flat out asked her. Turned out the whole thing happened in a hotel while they were with her cousins at a nerdy convention (the very same Carly had always assumed would hinder him, not help him) and yeah, they _were_ eternally in love.

So go figure.

…

It was no big deal if a dork like Freddie had that serious of a relationship before she did. Carly's self-esteem came back fast enough, before her smoothie was finished, in fact. Freddie _was_ a dork, but he wasn't so unfortunate as other dorks. In fact, the nerd was deep inside of him these days where only long-standing friends who remembered junior high could see it.

Plus, he was a guy, so whatever.

It did get her thinking, though, about the future. Carly usually didn't spend a lot of time worrying about it, but for once she imagined life where she had that kind of news to tell her friends…

Huh. She'd never imagined that before, but it would happen some day, wouldn't it? She wondered if things would be different afterward or if it was a thing easily forgotten throughout the day, like it'd never even happened…

She supposed she'd find out one day and moved on.

…

It was another broiling hot summer filled with Norwegian air conditioners, tank tops and Peppy Cola bottles dripping with condensation when Sam got the better of Brad. She told Carly about it first, in private. The story she told was surprisingly romantic and made Carly fall in love with Brad just a little bit upon hearing it. It also made Carly feel weird. Sam knew things now, things she didn't. When Carly got up the nerve to ask certain questions, Sam gave the answers but then it was too weird to talk about so they changed the subject.

Then, much more casually and painting the whole thing off to be no big deal, she let Freddie in on it when they were supposed to be rehearsing for the show. Carly was surprised that she said it even with Gibby there, who wasn't in the Tell Everything Pact. Gibby was there helping because Alana was no longer around. She and Freddie had come to a grinding halt when the school year was out. That was months ago, but Freddie had only just finished moping around about it.

Upon hearing the news, Freddie smirked at Sam, "Brad, huh?" he asked.

Sam kicked his beanbag with enough force to move it a few inches across the hardwood, "Yeah, _Brad_. Gotta problem with that?"

"Nope."

"Well—good."

Carly was perfectly fine with everything. Seriously. She had absolutely no problem with being surrounded by friends who knew more about sex than she did. It was their business. It wasn't like they sat around swapping details or anything, so it was almost like nothing had changed.

Then, in the middle of senior year, sitting in the backseats of a bus on an AP English field trip, the topic of relationships took a weird turn and suddenly everyone was talking about it, swapping stories. Carly remained quiet, listening, learning, seriously not bothered…. Then someone said,

"Well, Carls, what about you?"

She shrugged, "I'll let you know when it happens."

Looks of surprise all around, exclamations of disbelief, and Carly laughed, thrilled people thought she was as experienced as Sam, and reassured them that if she'd done it, she would know. Her oldest and best friend clapped her on the back and told her not to worry, that it'd happen for her soon enough.

Carly hadn't been worried, but something in Sam's tone and all the reassuring nods around her made her doubt. Was there something about her that just _screamed_ Doomed to be a Virgin Forever?

She was a virgin because she wanted to be. It sounded weird, but whatever. She had just never been kissing a guy and thought I MUST TAKE ALL MY CLOTHES OFF NOW and she never actively went looking to "get some" as Sam had taken to doing. Her plan had always been a kind of Just Let it Happen thing and it just hadn't happened yet.

Carly knew that it was _no big deal_.

So it was really, really, stupid when she let her friends start making her feel otherwise.

…

A graduation party throbbed in the night, a hazy den of release; all forms of it. Release on the dance floor, in how close a person could get, in what they could touch as everyone moved to the music together. Release in what beverage sloshed into a red plastic cup, release from the chains of school, from the rules of childhood, a single night when college and all that stretched out after it could wait. Because it was time to celebrate being young and free.

Michael was smoking hot, and sweet, and _such_ a good kisser.

He wasn't even a stranger, a face she'd known since elementary school, and she _wanted_ to. So why—WHY did she freak out when he made the suggestion?

Part of it was how casually he did it, like it was no big deal, like he was sure she'd done it before. It made telling him she hadn't impossible because she felt too weird. It was flattering that he thought she had experience. She thought for a second she could just go with it, let him think she did… but then she realized she was scared. She wasn't at all sure what to do, what to really expect.

There was no way she could fake being experienced.

She'd paid attention in Sex Ed, asked Sam some things, listened to her other friends, but none of those sources could really give her the details she wanted, she needed, if she was going to be cool in face of all-alone-and-shedding-clothes. And then there was that other thing, that it was supposed to hurt. Hurt how? How badly? No one ever said.

Carly was never very good with pain and Michael was too cool—they all were, the boys she allowed to rub up against her—and she didn't want to be a _spaz_ around them. She found herself choking out an excuse about cramps, felt sick when Michael scoffed, shrugged, and _walked away_.

She sought fresh air, sank onto the top step on the back porch. The party had spilled out here into the dark yard lit by strung up lights, but it wasn't nearly as crowded as in the house. She sighed heavily and put her forehead on her knees. If only everyone was allowed one practice run, something that didn't count, but that got all the weird and messy stuff out of the way.

After some reflection, Carly decided that she simply wasn't made right. She cared far too much about appearance and persona, about keeping up her image. No _way_ could she navigate all the great huge Unknowns that having sex for the first time presented and keep… _cool_ about it. No way could she find it in herself for that not to matter. She'd probably do or say something completely wrong or embarrassing. Or she'd ask far too many questions, ruining the mood or whatever.

She hated that she was crying over it. But her self esteem was finding it hard to cut through all the crap.

"What's wrong?" A deep voice right beside her ear scared her into a run down the steps. At the bottom, she turned around and sighed, laughed, "Gib, you scared the pee outta me."

"Seriously?" Gibby actually looked there, and Carly batted her hands around in front of her jeans to break his line of sight, as she cried, "Not _really_!"

He'd walked up behind her, stooped to talk into her ear. These days he matched Spencer in height, still sporting several pounds of Gibby-pudge. He shrugged, hitched up the back of his pants, and sat on the top step. Carly returned there.

"So what's up?" Gibby asked. Damn. Carly had hopped he'd have forgotten. Of course, he wouldn't have, though, not when so many things could go so very wrong at a party like this. A crying girl never boded well.

"Stupid stuff, nothing to worry about,"

"No one ever cries over stupid stuff."

"Shows what you know."

"It might be stupid to the world, but it's not to you. Not if it makes you cry."

"Damn, Gibby," Carly huffed, "When did you get so insightful?"

Gibby's mouth dropped open and he blinked, "When did you start talking like that?"

"About five minutes ago," Carly admitted, "When I decided the world sucks."

"How so?"

Carly sighed, put her forehead on her knees again. The steps weren't very wide, their hips were pushed against each other. She could feel his warmth as Gibby remained quiet beside her. She drew in a deep breath and decided to tell the truth.

"I'm a virgin."

"I know."

"I don't want to be."

"Oh,"

She threw a hand over her shoulder, "And I could have—with Michael—just now. But…" She scoffed blinked as her eyes burned with new tears. She wouldn't let them fall onto the dark denim of her jeans.

"You don't love him," he said and she felt him shrug.

"Nope," she sighed.

"So find someone you love."

"I can't!"

"Well you're only eighteen, Carls," Gibby chuckled. "Maybe you shouldn't write yourself off so easily."

Carly laughed, "That's not what I meant. I meant—I don't _want_ to find someone to love. Not… not yet." She rolled her head until her kneecap was under a temple and she could look up at him. She winced when she found his Gibby-features scrunched in confusion, "Does that make sense?"

"Not at all," Gibby laughed, "Why don't you want someone to love?"

"I just want to get the first time over with!" she cried, rolling back to her forehead. It was easier to talk into the dark crevice between her thighs and torso than to look at him. "I freaked out with Michael because, well, because I started worrying too much, I couldn't enjoy it. I turned into a complete spaz and it literally drove him away."

Gibby was laughing now.

"It's not funny!" Carly cried, and now tears did fall, shook lose with the force of lifting her head too fast.

"Yes it is!" he said, "Because when you love the guy, you won't worry about it."

Carly scoffed, remembered all the heartache and confusion in her childhood, of never living with mom again… Then she remembered all the whispers and promises of Steven Carlson, which also turned out to be a lie.

"Love," she put her head back on her knees, "I'm not even sure love exists but…" she licked her lips, said on the front of all the breath in her lungs, "We're not going to talk about that."

Gibby was silent. Then his hand was warm and heavy on her shoulder, "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about!" and her voice was a little sharper than usual. Geeze, didn't she _just_ make it clear they weren't going to discuss the issues her parent's divorce and that two-faced dishrag had left in their wake?

The hand retreated, taking the hint. In the long moment of silence that followed, someone from the yard laughed and sloshed out amber liquid as he stepped over Carly to get back up onto the porch. She didn't even care.

"Okay," Gibby said.

"What?" Carly asked, lifting her head because it honestly sounded like he was talking to someone but they were alone on the steps and no cell phone was out. He'd been looking at her until she looked up, and then he looked out into the yard. "I think we can help each other."

"What do you need help with?"

He said in a rush, "I'm a virgin, too."

"Yeah, right," Carly huffed, her eye landing on three of the babes she frequently saw on his arm as she looked out into the yard as well.

"Seriously," he said. The finality of it demanded she believe it.

"Oh,"

She couldn't look at him. He wasn't looking at her, either.

Finally, after she'd had time to reassess all previous notions she'd had of Gibby: Gibby being the player, Gibby being the guy who was weird but weirdly loved by hot girls, she recalled what he'd said. "So… You think we can help each other?"

"Do _you_ think we can?"

Carly didn't answer for a long time. She was turning it over in her head. Gibby. She'd seriously never went there in her head before. Somehow, she'd made all kinds of assumptions without ever even _once_ picturing him using the things he'd have to use, or pictured him even _having_ them for that matter.

Gibby.

He was a friend. He was sweet, would be understanding if she asked too many questions or did something stupid or maybe couldn't handle that mysterious pain. He'd never tell anyone. It'd only have to be once. It wouldn't have to count. It'd be just what she'd been hoping for.

She forced herself to look at him, to meet his eye because if she was going to do this, she had to be able to do that _at least._ He looked back at her, grey green eyes dark in the dim light of the night. She saw his throat pulse with a swallow. She drew in a deep breath.

"Yeah, I think we can."

…

Carly kept her cool until she saw the bed. Gibby closed the door behind him. The click it made was loud, even though the music was making the floor vibrate and laughing chatter out in the hall was muffled but still prominent. She whirled, "I'm freaking out!"

His hand immediately went to the doorknob, "Well, if you don't want to."

"No!" She rushed forward, pulled his hand off the knob. "I'm just nervous."

His throat pulsed again, eyes locked on her hand on his. She gave a dry, forced laugh but didn't let go. Might as well get used to touching him.

Gibby.

She still couldn't believe she was going to do this with him, still wasn't convinced she actually would. Her heart pounded in her ears. She licked dry lips and said, "Well, I guess you should. Um. Kiss me, or something."

"Right," He rasped and cleared his throat. He turned the hand that was under hers over so that their palms were touching and pushed his fingers between hers. Then his other fingers were under her chin, then his lips were on hers.

A Gibby-kiss.

It was a sweet little kiss, lips on lips, reminding her of cumquat trees and potato salad—but then his fingers weren't under her chin anymore. That hand was flat on her collarbone, applying just enough force to close the space between her back and the door behind her, while his other hand undid the knot of their fingers to sink into the hair at the nape of her neck.

He'd taken a single step toward her, body now breathing against her and she suddenly became aware that her hands were just hanging there at her sides. She brought them up, touched the buttons on the front of his shirt, felt soft flesh under the fabric. That was new; she'd never kissed anyone who didn't feel like a rock under their shirt.

His tongue swept over her lips, killing the cumquat trees. She let him in. Not potato salad, not even beer, but nachos and salsa dip. She put her arms around his neck and then his hands were on her lower back, holding her against him.

This wasn't bad. In fact, it made sense, what all those girls stuck around him for. Gibby-kisses were surprising. This was even fun—kinda. She still hadn't forgotten why they were kissing at all. She was thinking about what came next more than the salsa or the heat of his palms through the back of her shirt.

Gibby broke the kiss to clear his throat and ask, "How. Um. How far have you gotten?"

Carly breathed out, finding some kind of relief with his question, like they were getting back on track and planning ahead. Carly liked planning ahead. "Well," she said, and she bit her lip as she gripped his forearm and pulled up. She put his hand on her breast—A Gibby-cop-a-feel. Weird.—and gave a weak laugh, forced. "This far?"

His eyes were locked on his hand, cupped around the mound of flesh scooped into her bra beneath her shirt. His throat pulsed and he nodded for a moment before finally saying, "Okay."

"You?"

"Um, little further," he said.

"Oh," was all she could say because honestly, she wasn't sure what a little further meant. He noticed when her breathing went shallow because it was right under his hand.

"Are you sure?"

"I was crying about it, wasn't I?"

"Um." He said, "I meant with me. Like this."

She met his eye, noticed the grey flecks in the green of his irises at this proximity. "Why not?" she asked. "You're a good friend."

"…Okay."

A moment passed with his hand warming her breast, his stomach swelling into hers with his breaths, blood throbbing in her ears. He looked over his shoulder, "Should we?"

The bed.

"Sure," she said.

It was a minute before they moved.

She forced a light laugh, headed that way first. "No reason to be weird about it, right?" she sat on the edge of the bed beside the pillows and had her shoes off before her false bravado broke with a sharp breath catching in her throat and a moment of WHAT ARE YOU DOING? crashing onto her head.

Gibby went to the bed at a slower pace, sat beside her. "This is weird, maybe we should just—"

"No." Carly dug deep and pulled that bravado back up. She brought a leg up onto the bed to face him. "Gibby, we both want to get it over with, right?"

He nodded.

"We're friends, right?"

He nodded again, adding, "Forever."

That was so sweet Carly nearly backed out right then because the whole thing felt like it would somehow corrupt that well of sweetness. She smiled her first genuine smile since he'd surprised her on the back porch.

"So there is no reason why we should let this get weird, right?" she said, pushing hair behind her ear. "We're friends so we should just have fun with it!"

He nodded.

"So," she said, sliding closer to a friend over the comforter of a stranger's bed. Her bravado quavered as she said, "Show me how far you've gotten and then we'll go from there."

He nodded, eyes on the carpet under his shoes. He kicked them off, moving lethargically. Then after a moment's pause, he drew in a deep breath and turned to face her with determination. She laughed, a real laugh, and kissed him again just for something to do because the nerves were coming back and she wanted to get this over with already.

This time, he held either side of her face and the kiss was short. He stopped to go to his elbow on the mattress, bringing her with him with the same force that had put her against the door, this time applied by the hand lost in the soft hair at the back of her neck. She went to her elbow beside him, then she was on her back and his mouth was back on hers.

He found her breasts without her guidance this time and Carly's heart started to pound. Any further than this and it was all new to her; it kind of already was new, being alone and prone on a bed. His lips left hers and trailed along her jaw to her neck even as his fingers slid down to her belt, then up again, under her shirt this time.

When his weight straddled her, she numbly remembered that she should be doing something with her hands, if anything to hide their shaking. So as his fingers found all the edges to her bra, hers got busy with buttons. She was glad he had a button shirt; it gave her something to do. Had he been in an abs- squeezing v-neck t-shirt like her boyfriends, it would have been gone in one motion and then she'd have nothing to focus on.

One button at a time—then her shirt swept over her vision, grabbed up her arms, and lifted all of her hair up for a moment before spitting it back out. She'd been halfway done with his buttons and was momentarily distracted by being so exposed in the presence of a guy. Even if it was just Gibby. She'd never felt someone else's eyes on her before now.

It wasn't a bad feeling, though it made her want to clench her abs so that her stomach would look flatter. He helped her with the rest of the buttons, shrugged the shirt off to bare his arms in an undershirt. They looked at each other for a minute and he said, "This is as far as I've gotten."

"Yeah," she said. She didn't know why. It was better than _oh_. Kinda didn't make any sense though, sounded weird. He didn't notice. She pushed herself up, sat with her legs stretched out between his as he sat on his knees. His eyes roved over her hair as she did—it was all tossed and fanned out around her face from pulling off her shirt.

"Now what?" he asked.

She laughed, "Well, we gotta get, you know, _in the mood_." She jumped her eyebrows. He laughed, his first since the steps. It instantly made her feel better. Friends. No reason to be weird about it.

Get it over with.

The next logical step was to even the score, so Carly grabbed the hem of his undershirt and had it over his head before he caught on. Gibby's gut was unblemished and tanned from all his shirtless confidence. He laughed again, this one sounding more forced.

"Right," he said as if talking to someone again. He leaned forward, sending Carly back down onto her back. The skin of his chest pressed against hers as he kissed her once again.

There was a checklist forming in Carly's head. Since nothing could really be gotten over with until all was checked off, she got right to work on it. Jeans off. The Gibby-kisses stopped the moment he realized what she was doing. She kept going anyway. A snap of the button, a scratch of the zipper, some wiggling to get them down her hips without her underwear coming to. Gibby stopped straddling her when she sat up to peel the tight cuffs of the skinny jeans over her feet and remove her socks.

Feeling suddenly too bare in just panties and bra—and thanking god she'd shaved her legs that morning even though she hadn't felt like it—she pulled down the comforter and crawled under it. Gibby evened the score as she did so. Boxer briefs. Leg hair.

Oh my god.

The nerves came back tenfold, slamming into her gut, when he slid under the comforter next to her.

Okay.

Carly's swallow was a little dry. The next items on the checklist were the scary ones. Her breathing was shallow again as she reclined on the pillows and Gibby went to an elbow facing her. "Relax," he said.

"Heh," was the best she could do.

"If your not sure—"

"This is an agreement between friends." She cut in. "I'm sure about it, Gib."

He licked his lips, his eyes studying her face intently. He nodded. He was doing that a lot, nodding. How many times had he nodded tonight? Carly suddenly wondered. Weirdly, she really wanted to know the number. It was like she'd rather obsess over that than deal with what was happening as he slid closer to her between the sheets, hand on her ribs drawing her closer.

_We're friends, right?_

_Forever._

With that memory, she relaxed a little. He was her friend. He was Gibby, sweet Gibby. There would be no judgment, no rumors spread the next day. So she kissed him when he kissed her, and held him while he held her.

Hidden under blankets, in bed, alone, a lot of skin touching, fun Gibby-kisses trailing from her lips to her neck and on further to her collarbone, Gibby-fingertips finding the clasp on the front of her bra. A click she felt more than heard. Flesh falling free, straps slipped over shoulders, familiar fabric gone. Bra off. Check.

They were under blankets, but with Gibby over her and the blanket across his back, her chest was still exposed to the room at large. Just like that, Carly found herself slipping into the proper mood.

It was like spinning in lazy circles on a float in a calm pool, and simultaneously going down white rapids with helmet and float forgotten at home. She gasped when Gibby's kisses reached all the tender skin newly bare to the light of the room.

Maybe the lights should have been off. She located the light switch out of reach by the door. Ah well, no going back now. She could still hear the muffled conversations of people right outside the room, the music pounding through the whole house. None of it was louder than her heart, though. Gibby's mouth was back over hers.

Okay. Um. Next was the really scary thing. Panties off. Yikes. She couldn't bring herself to take initiative on it like she had the jeans, couldn't even touch the hem line. Gibby touched her panties first, and not at the hemline. And not super lightly, either. She gasped, but not at all in pain.

"Sorry,"

"No," she said, and a laugh bubbled out of her because that touch had tipped her over the rapids and made the spinning not so lazy. "You're supposed to."

He did it again and Carly forgot to panic, forgot checklists, forgot lights on, and boobs exposed. This was fun.

Then something new showed up down below and with it came the checklist and the panic and the shallow breathing. Logically, she'd known it would happen, had somehow forgotten it on the checklist, though, too caught up with herself. When she looked in Gibby's eyes, she found them darkened by wide pupils. He opened his mouth to say something. She cut him off,

"I know. Relax."

"Actually, I was going to ask you something." He sounded different.

"What?"

A blush tinted his cheeks. "Do you—I mean, a-are you ready?" his eyes dipped down between them, way down where things got dark under the comforter, where his fingers, as if to punctuate the question, kneaded her again. Pleasure shot through her.

She gulped, tried not to panic as she nodded. Another delightful touch turned into a grip on the fabric, and then the hem was sliding down her thighs. Yikes. But _yikes_ at the same time. She found her hands were idle once more. It was some kind of freaky instinct had them pulling down _his _hemline to even the score. He kicked the boxer briefs off and the jarring of the mattress as he did so dropped her back into reality.

Kids from class talking just outside the door, music downstairs, the lights were still on. Gibby rocked the mattress more, leaning over the edge of the bed where he'd left his pants, looking for something she'd seen him get from Gary Wolfe the college guy when they met him on the stairs up here. She was glad he thought of it. It was next on her checklist.

Next on the checklist after that made her stomach clench with fear. She wished she wasn't cursed with such a worrisome brain. She was almost sure other girls didn't freak out over this mysterious and forewarned pain so much. They were probably more focused on the rest of it, the fun parts, the hormonal thrills, the exchange of fluids. Granted, they probably weren't as bad with pain as she was.

Gibby. Friend. Sweet. She breathed out with steady control. Get it over with.

"Um," she trembled, "Kiss me or something."

He obeyed, and the hunger in it was surprising, especially accompanied by his hands sliding down her sides, over her hips and down her thighs, putting her knees over his hips. He broke the kiss, pulled away. Carly became aware that scarier things were as exposed as her breasts had been in this position. She really wished the lights had been turned out.

Gibby dragged his eyes all the way up her body to her face, "Uh…?"

"Yeah." She said, bracing herself. Nothing happened.

"…Show me?"

Oh.

She hoped he didn't notice that her hand was shaking as she guided him to the right place. Her heart was pounding _visibly_ in her chest. She realized the grip of her hand on his shoulder had white knuckles. Thankfully, she'd guided with as little contact as possible, a white knuckled grip down there might not have gone over well.

But she wasn't sure.

There was only one thing left to do.

…What, was he waiting for a _countdown_? And suddenly, absurdly, Carly thought of Freddie's "and in 5, 4, 3, 2—"She snorted with laughter.

"What?" Gibby asked, wildly, even looked around.

"Sorry!" she cried, realizing too late that it was a completely inappropriate time to laugh. She made circles around her ears, "Crazy thoughts right now."

His laugh was deep throated and short, "Yeah me, too."

"Friends forever?" She asked suddenly, remembering how it'd calmed her earlier. He double looked her, the corner of his mouth went up. "Yeah."

She nodded. Gulped, "Okay. Do it."

He nodded.

…

In sudden stillness, the weirdness couldn't be kept at bay. There was nothing to do now but get up, get dressed. No point in kissing anymore, not trying to go anywhere with it, and cuddling wasn't in the contract. After a moment of wide-eyed staring, suddenly, it was kind of like they both had places to be.

Carly desperately wished they could laugh this weirdness away, and a part of her was sure they would. Eventually. But right now, another part of her was still pulsing with echoes of all that had just happened and it felt too quiet in this room which shook with distant music.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Gibby asked as his thick fingers deftly buttoned up his shirt. His voice was heavy with concern, as it had been when she'd had to convince him to keep going.

"Yeah," Carly answered hurriedly, socks back on and reaching for her shoes.

"But you—"

"I'm just not good with pain." She cut in. "It wasn't as bad as I probably made it seem. And the rest of it was—…Good."

He nodded.

She jammed her feet into her shoes without untying them, stood, faced him. He seemed to meet her eye with incredible difficulty. His throat pulsed and she forced a smile.

"Thanks, Gibby." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, under his arms, squeezing him tight. "I couldn't have gone through that with—you know, just some guy. I can trust that you won't tell anyone what a spaz I was."

He chuckled, returned the hug. He didn't squeeze, just put his arms around her and held her lightly against him. "It did get kind of scary-spazzy there at first." He said. She shoved him, delighted as laughter broke through the nerves and tension.

Then, he was raking his fingers through her hair—not in a sexy way, in a let's-deal-with-this-bed-head way. Carly gasped, couldn't believe she hadn't thought of her hair. She literally would have stepped back out into the party with her hair a tale-tell mess.

"Thank God for Gibbies." She breathed as he worked.

When he was done, she stepped away, handing his personal space back to him, safely borrowed and now returned. She was happy to see his easy smile was back.

"Thanks, Carly," He said. She nodded.

They were fully clothed, no tears, no nerves, no expectations, they were friends again. She held out a hand, which he took after a moment of looking at it, with a delighted laugh.

"Friends forever," She said as they shook and he gave a curt nod, as if accepting the mission.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: iThink They Did It!**

Julianne was a go-getter. Gibby liked that. He also liked the way her sheets smelled, her dorm roommate for agreeing to see a movie tonight, her lips, her hands pushing his from her knees up her skirt. Gibby knew what was coming straight at him like a freight train, and he wasn't nervous, no more than the good kind of nervous, anyway. He knew what to do.

Thank God for Carly Shay.

"Wait, wait, wait" Julianne breathed when she was stretched out on the bed beside him and things were starting to get really, _really_ fun. Gibby pulled his lips away from her skin to meet her eye. "How many girls have you been with?" she asked.

He frowned and she hurried to explain that she just needed to know. He got it, he just didn't know how to answer. What had happened with Carly on the night of graduation had been strictly an arrangement, wasn't supposed to count.

But Julianne was looking at him with deep chocolate eyes pleading for truth and he couldn't _lie_. Ah, go on, let it count even if it wasn't supposed to. No need to give names, so no big deal.

"Just one," he admitted. "Once."

Her eyebrows went high, her wonderful lips parted. "Just once?"

He nodded. Suddenly she was kissing him harder than she ever had, and reaching for things, and then nothing mattered anymore.

That night, Julianne told her roommate that The Gibster had been practically a virgin. When asked what _that_ meant, she shrugged and said that he'd admitted to doing it only once before. That roommate happened to mention it to a friend the next morning in the commons.

That friend choked on her swallow of corndog and grabbed Julianne's roommate hard by the arm to keep her from going to the salad bar. Her blue eyes were wide, her mouth smiling, waiting for the joke, "What do you mean, he'd done it _once_ before?"

The girl shrugged, "I dunno, just something Julie said."

Sam instantly sought out Julie and got it first-hand from her with more detail. Then she went straight to Gibby. She found him emerging from his dorm room, yawning and just awake though it was noon.

"What the hell?" she demanded.

"What?" he asked.

"Donna said that Julie said that _you_ said that you'd been with _only one girl_ before Julie!"

Gibby blushed furiously and started walking hard. "I was lying."

"You don't lie to girls."

"Maybe I do, what do you know about it?"

"Dude," Sam fell into step with her old friend. "Are we friends, or what?"

"Yeah,"

"Then what's the big deal? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"I don't know—that you weren't sleeping with all those girls in high school?"

"Sam, no guy runs around announcing it to the world that he isn't getting any."

"But you _could have been_, Gib!" Sam cried. "We all _thought_ you were!"

"Well, I wasn't, so that was your mistake."

"You were getting some at least _once_, though." Sam laughed.

Gibby said nothing, jogged down the stairs to the elevator at the bottom in an attempt to lose her, but Sam stayed stuck to his side, blue eyes sparkling. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Gibby asked as he stepped into the elevator. He sighed wearily when the doors stayed opened long enough for Sam to slip in with him.

"_Who was it_?"

"None'ya, Puckett."

"Oh, come on!" Sam laughed, "Why won't you tell me?" she gasped, laughed, "Oh my god, it wasn't a guy was it?"

"No!"

"Hey, nothing wrong with it if it was."

"_I know that_—but it wasn't!"

"Hmmm, it makes sense if it was." Sam laughed throatily as the elevator doors slid opened. "Ha! It was Freddie wasn't it? The Alana thing was a cover—I KNEW IT!"

"Freddie is straight and you know that better than anyone."

Sam completely ignored that and tugged on her bottom lip in dramatic contemplation. "Could it have been a teacher, and that's why you aren't allowed to talk about it? She was married or something—Mrs. Markley!"

"I wish," Gibby said, him and the rest of Ridgeway High boys. And some girls.  
>"Dude, seriously, who was she?"<p>

"Why do you care?" Gibby demanded with enough force to cause Sam's delighted smile to dissolve. She looked away, shrugged.

"I dunno. It's just weird." She kicked at nothing on the ground. "All this time I thought you were going from girl to girl and it was just one girl, one time. She must have been special, or whatever." Sam rolled her eyes just using the words. She shrugged and didn't meet his eye as she said, "I guess I'm curious why you didn't tell your friends about her."

Gibby sighed. He was in deep chiz. Sam laughed, dropping the serious mood. She pushed his shoulder. "C'mon, dude. I told you about Brad."

"You told _Freddie_ about Brad, and I happened to be in ear shot." Gibby corrected.

Sam's face hardened and she scoffed, "That was because I'm part of a stupid pact I made with him and Carly about telling each other stuff!" Gibby knew that. It was precisely the reason he couldn't tell Sam a name right now. Carly hadn't told Sam and Freddie about it, had ignored the pact. Because it didn't count.

Sam continued, "I could have waited for when you weren't there, but I didn't mind you being there, because you were a friend!"

Dammit.

"So come on. I'm way too curious about it now. I won't drop it."

Gibby pushed on his eyes. It was going to hurt Sam's feelings if he didn't tell. It was going to cause too much drama if he did. He thought about lying, picking a random girl and saying it was her… but Gibby never liked to lie. It'd come back and bite him in the ass if he did. He just knew it.

There was only one way to keep the peace.

He met Sam's eye and said as resolutely as he could. "I promised I wouldn't say, Sam. I don't break promises. Sorry."

Then he turned and headed for his physics lecture.

…

When Sam entered their shared dorm room cursing and grumbling under her breath, Carly instantly wondered what Freddie had done this time. But Sam kicked off her shoes, one going under her bed the other up onto the dresser, grabbed a peppy cola from the mini fridge and flopped into her bed. "I hate guys who keep promises."

Carly snorted, "What?"

"Gibby," Sam said darkly. "Dude's got a secret and WON'T DIVULGE!"

Carly laughed. "Duh, that's the definition of a secret."

Sam sat up, "You know he was never sleeping with all those bimbos in high school?"

Carly faked surprise extremely well, if she did say so herself. "Really?"

"Yeah!" Sam twisted the top off the glass bottle with her bare hand and took a deep swig. "Apparently, he told Julie right before they did the nasty that he'd been with a girl only _once_ before her—but he won't say who it was!"

All the breath whooshed out of Carly, and she remembered pounding music and Gibby-kisses. But maybe that was counting some other girl. No, he _was_ counting some other girl. Because she didn't count.

"Just one?" she asked before she could stop herself and she must have used all of her acting Mojo up on that first one because that wasn't at all the right tone. It wasn't flabbergasted. It was too… eager for conformation, too worried about what might be confirmed.

Sam's second deep swing was cut in half and her eyebrows went low. The bottle left her lips with a wet smack and she frowned. "Waddup, Carls?"

"Nothing," she quipped, returning to her required reading. Then, thinking fast, added. "It's just shocking. I thought Gibby was a player."

"Apparently it's this big act. Dude's some kind of closet romantic who, like, takes it seriously and keeps promises and all of that lame stuff." Sam rolled her eyes.

"Well, good for him." Carly said, breathing easier. He keeps promises. Gibby was so sweet. Carly's palms were sweating as they always did when the conversation topics went too close to her Breech of Pact. No. It wasn't a breech. Because it didn't count, it was just to get it over with.

"Carly?" Sam had been talking and Carly hadn't heard a word.

"Sorry—what?"

"Okay, something's going on."

"Not at all!" Carly screeched, actually holding up her book to shield her face, "I have no idea who she was!"

There was a sickening pause in the dorm room, in which Carly realized that Sam had moved on to another topic. Then Sam's fingers curled around the edge of the book and lowered it.

Chiz.

Chiz.

Chiz.

"Carls, what the fat-cake?"

Carly snapped the book closed, scrambled off her bed and headed for the door. "I promised I wouldn't say anything!" she shrilled and the door slammed behind her as she went out.

…

Sam found Freddie studying in the library. She slammed her hands down on either side of his book. He jumped so hard his chair nearly toppled. Ear phones fell out of his ears. "Sam!" he cried.

Her face was hard, her eyes burning with rage. "We have asses to kick, Fredly."

"What?" he asked, too distracted by the sudden storm of her anger to even take the opportunity to look down her shirt as she leaned to hold her weight on the table.

"They've been _lying to us_!" Sam cried. Others in the library spoke up then, grumbling about being quiet, taking it outside, or going to hell. Midterms, stressing for some.

Freddie left his books on the table and went with her outside the library entrance. "What's going on?" he asked. Her nostrils flared as she breathed. He gulped. This was serious.

First, she started talking about Gibby, surprised him with news that he'd only been with two girls before, but didn't surprise him when she got to the part where he wouldn't reveal the girl's name. Private business, Sam, god.

Then she started talking about Carly, how she'd started being weird after hearing about Gibby. Freddie really didn't get it. Carly was kind of weird anytime sex was brought up. Period. But, then, Sam started talking about Mason, Carly's boyfriend freshman year who turned out to be her first.

"I asked him and he said she was totally cool when he stuck it in."

"Sam!" Freddie hissed, not appreciating the mental images. She grabbed his arms. "Don't you _see_?"

"No!" He cried.

Sam gave him a withering look. "Name three things Carly isn't good at handling."

Confused and just ready to get back to studying for his anatomy midterms, Freddie decided the best thing would be to humor her. "I don't know. Uh, grades lower than an A. Tight spaces. Pain-"

"Bingo!"

There was a beat, then it landed. "Oh!"

Sam nodded. Freddie nodded, too. A moment passed and then he asked, "Okay, wait, what's that tell us?"

Sam groaned, slapped him. "Carly and Gibby _did it_!"

Freddie gasped.

"And the little skunk bag didn't tell us!" Sam continued in a dangerously dark tone.

"Sam, Carly's not a skunk bag, she's our best friend!"

"Who forced us to swear to tell her _everything_ and then she doesn't tell us when she buttered Gibby? WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?"

It hurt Freddie to think Carly would do that, but it evidently didn't hurt him as much as it did Sam. She was pacing, fists clenched and shaking, eyes wild, swears pouring out of her lips. "I can't believe her!"

Freddie caught her shoulders, "We haven't actually gotten their story on this. Maybe it's a misunderstanding."

"I doubt it."

"Please," Freddie said and his sincerity surprised some of the anger right out of Sam's features. His grip on her shoulders lessened and he continued, "Please don't start hating her. If you lose her for a friend, I don't know what will happen to you because without her, you're not going to stick around so that I can keep an eye on you."

She knocked his hands away. "Don't worry about me. Mama takes care of herself. And I don't want your eye on me, Fredbag."

"Well I'm going to worry and I'm going to watch, because it's what friends do when they care." He honestly meant it as a just friend, not at all as some kind of sappy romantic love speech, though it landed on Sam more like the second one. Which just pissed her off.

"Whatever," she growled, "Are you going to confront her with me or do you not care she betrayed your trust?"

Freddie sighed, "We'll talk to her tonight."

…

Gibby found Carly pacing outside his dorm room. He was happy to see her until he got close enough to hear that she was swearing under her breath in a constant stream.

"Carly, what's wrong?" He asked. She whirled, many necklaces jangling, soft dark hair swishing in front of her face. Beautiful. As always.

"Gibby!" she cried.

"Carly!" he cried back.

"Sam might be on to us!"

"About what?" he asked and his eyes told her he knew very well what but that he was doing that thing she taught him to do, where even they pretended like nothing had happened in that stranger's room.

She sighed, gratefully, felt a twinge of guilt. "She wouldn't be suspecting if I hadn't said—well, it doesn't matter what I said. I gave away that I know who your first was. That's why I'm here. We need to formulate a cover story, a girl, a name I can give. Because Sam's going to try to get it out of me and I'll fold like I always do."

Gibby chuckled, shrugged heavy shoulders, "What's wrong with telling her the truth? We're all friends."

"You _know_ what's wrong!" Carly cried, whimpered, falling against his door and pushing her hands through her hair. "I betrayed the pact—I didn't tell them when it happened!"

Gibby nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Carly sprang back onto her feet, gripping his arms. "So let's make up a cover story!"

"A lie on top of a lie."

"_Wrapped_ in a lie," Carly added with an eyebrow quirked and shiny lips smirking.

Gibby sighed. "I don't know."

"Please! Sam takes pacts very seriously—and she doesn't trust easily. This is going to hurt her bad if she finds out!"

"She'll get over it, because you'll still love her and she'll still love you."

Carly groaned. "If only it could be that simple!"

Gibby took her shoulders. "Carls, seriously. We're better than to get tangled up in lies."

"But—"

"Right now, she's curious about me. She has no idea it has anything to do with you. She thinks you just know a name. She might not even ask you. Maybe she'll drop it, get bored, move on to other things."

Carly crossed her fingers and prayed really hard it'd be so.

"If she doesn't," Gibby continued, "Then you should tell the truth."

"But—"

"That you are sworn to secrecy and are too good a person to break that confidence." He winked. Carly sighed. It was a simple plan, and it could work, if she could manage to hold to the honor code of secret keeping long enough for Sam to accept she'd never know.

But shouldn't she know?

…

Waiting in the quiet of Sam and Carly's dorm room with Sam, Freddie felt sick. The fight to come was not going to be pretty. He had already forgiven Carly for breaking the pact. He'd never liked it anyway. Sam, though, he knew how hurt she was, and that she wouldn't forgive easily.

He hated when they fought, being in that weird limbo between them.

He sat on Sam's bed, his elbows on his knees. Sam sat on Carly's, shoes on the comforter, arms wrapped around knees drawn to her chest. She was staring at the door.

"Just try to remember that she's Carly," Freddie said. "She was always weird about sex. Maybe she was too embarrassed to say anything and then it was too late."

"She wasn't too embarrassed to talk about sex with Mason." Sam said thickly.

"Well, that's Mason with the killer abs." Freddie said, drawing a jump out of the corner of her mouth, which she immediately tamed. "But if your theory is right, then we're talking about sex with Gibby." He laughed, "It had to be _weird_."

Sam said nothing. Tamed no smiles.

He sighed into the heavy silence, leaned back. Flat on his back on Sam's bed, he noticed a poster she'd put on the ceiling, a perfectly cooked ham. Of course.

The door opened. Freddie sat up. Sam didn't move. Carly yelped upon finding them there.

"You broke. The pact." Sam said so calmly that Freddie could do nothing but sit in silence with his mouth open as his eyes darted between them.

"I'm sorry." Carly said. She, too, was calm though her knuckles were white gripping the doorknob and she didn't seem to be breathing.

"You slept with Gibby." Sam said.

"Gary Wolf's house, graduation party."

"Geezus!" Sam suddenly cried.

Carly rushed forward, hands shaking as she cried, "It was nothing—just this thing, an agreement. You know like when you and Freddie kissed the first time!"

"I can't believe you didn't _tell us_!" Sam cried.

"I know. I'm sorry." Carly said and her voice was shrill and thin. She launched into explanations about how she was not good with pain and knew she would be a spaz about it and how she'd been feeling like she'd be stuck being a virgin forever and how Gibby had offered to help and how she took him up on it just to get it over with, and how she turned out to be a complete spaz JUST LIKE SHE KNEW SHE WOULD and then how they'd both agreed that it wouldn't count and if it didn't count how could she tell people about it? And she was sorry she was so sorry could they please forgive her?

"You guys never have to tell me a single thing ever again!" she hiccupped. Her dark eyes were filled with water.

"Don't worry," Sam spat, "We won't."

"I'll still tell you some stuff, Carls—and you, too, Sam." Freddie said, "Because we're _all_ _still friends_."

Sam harrumphed. Carly's lip quivered. "Sam?" she asked.

Sam wouldn't look at her. Carly moved over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. "I'm sorry, Sam. I should have told you."

"Yeah. You should have. But you didn't."

Carly pushed hair behind her ear, "It's all my fault—I made you guys make the pact with me and I could tell you didn't want to. But I wanted to know everything so that I could make sure nothing too serious ever happened. I was just scared that you'd, I don't know, pair up and leave me alone." She laughed wetly. "But that happened anyway!" she cried, and Freddie smiled with her as she said, "Thank god for failed geometry tests."

That had been what broke Sam and Freddie up when they'd dated briefly all those years ago.

"We wouldn't have left you, Carls." Freddie said, "Even if we had stayed together. You're our best friend—right Sam?"

Carly sobbed and Sam's stony expression was gone, but she still wouldn't meet anyone's eye.

"It was a stupid pact," Carly sniffed, dashing away tears. "But you guys kept to it awesomely, and I couldn't. I'm sorry."

"The pact is behind us, now." Freddie said dark eyes locked on Sam. "It was a stupid kid thing and now it's over."

"It wasn't a stupid kid thing." Sam snapped.

"Yeah it was," Freddie snapped back. "People aren't supposed to tell their friends _every little thing_. Some things are better left in private and anyway, that sort of closeness is for…" he shrugged, "special relationships."

"The three of us is a special relationship." Sam grumbled. Freddie's jaw dropped and Carly gulped audibly as all eyes went to Sam. She wouldn't look at them for a minute, but then she did, meeting Freddie's eye first before quickly looking to Carly.

"Being friends with you guys has been the best thing ever for me. The rest of my life sucks, but you guys make it okay."

"Sam!" Carly threw her arms around her best friend. "I'm so sorry!"

Freddie stood and threw his arms around both of them, crying in Spanish, "I love you guys!"

…

Carly saw a glimpse of Julianne under the covers when Gibby answered the door. She raised an eyebrow and smirked at him as he stepped out into the hall.

"Didn't mean to interrupt."

He waved a hand, "We're just watching Webflix."

"Uh huh." She said. He blushed, then cleared his throat. "So, what's up?"

Carly drew in a deep breath. "I told Sam and Freddie everything."

His eyebrows shot up and he took a step back, looked around. "Really?"

"Yup."

"And I'm still alive?"

Carly laughed. "We talked it about it, then hugged it out."

"She forgave you that easily?" His shock was to be expected. Carly and Freddie were feeling it to. Carly crossed her arms, rocked onto the sides of her feet. "Yep. I think midterms are too stressing for her to hold grudges right now."

"So do you believe love exists now?"

The sudden question startled Carly into taking a step back. She asked in a puff that was supposed to be a laugh, "What?"

He shrugged, "Just wondering what else that I thought would never happen is happening these days."

Carly shrugged, looked at the floor as she said as causally as she could, "Well, things are still up in the air about that."

"Oh,"

She laughed, changing the subject back to way she came. "Anyway, now that everyone knows—because Sam is going to tell everyone—what happened between us counts now. That means no more pretending that it never happened."

He bobbed his head, his easy smile reaching his eyes. "Yeah."

"Okay." A moment passed and Carly drew in a deep breath, then wagged her eyebrows, "Well, I'll let you get back to Julie."

He laughed, "Later, Carly."

"Later," she chortled and then he was back in his room.

The message board on the door said _Gibbeh_ with Spanish exclamation points. Carly didn't realize she was staring at it or that she was thinking of wide shoulders and the less spazy-portion of that night spent in a room with music shaking the walls, but Gibby-love shaking the bed frame. She was pulled out of it when Freddie's approaching form drew her attention.

She gave him a smile, turned to leave, heard Freddie exclaim in Spanish behind her. That was him seeing the message board. He groaned and slid down the wall to sit in the floor. Evidently, he wasn't allowed in the room when _Gibbeh_ was in Spanish.

Carly laughed and turned to invite him to eat with her and Sam while in the room, Gibby couldn't kill a smile. Part of it had to do with what Julianne was doing, but he'd come into the room already wearing this expression. Because it counted now.

He liked that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: iOMFG  
><strong>

It was the start of their junior year of college, autumn had arrived, leaves turning brightest yellow and fiery red, and a welcome crispness was in the air when Gibby burst into Professor Lambert's Organic Chemistry Lab. He managed to break an entire shelf of test tubes, a centrifuge, a guy's face, and three of his ribs before the cops got him under control.

Julianne had been as two-faced as Steven Carlson.

And the worst part was, (the part that had Chemistry majors shrieking and calling their mom's because they were sure Big Angry Guy would pull out a gun any minute and kill them all,) was that her other boyfriend, Joel something, had known about Gibby all along, while Gibby never knew a thing about him.

After charges were pressed, bail was made, and the authorities were properly convinced he wasn't a danger to his fellow students, Gibby was allowed to return. He arrived back on campus in the afternoon, and Carly heard about it from Freddie as he dropped into the vacant chair at their study table.

"How's he doing?" Sam asked.

Freddie shook his head, and Carly and Sam got it. Guy code said he couldn't say it, but Gibby was crying. After an entire year madly in love with Julianne, no one could blame him. To anyone who knew Gibby, the tears and subsequent criminal record were to be expected, really. He didn't handle betrayal well.

Carly closed her social sciences book on her note cards and stood, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair. "I'm going to go talk to him."

"He probably just wants to be alone."

Carly shrugged, "Or maybe he needs to talk to someone about it, someone who gets what it's like being two-timed."

Sure, that Steven business had never turned as serious as this. It was three months versus a year. It was regular kissing versus regular sex. But it was broken trust versus broken trust, and so she might still be able to help.

No one answered when she knocked on the sign that said _Gibbeh_ with no exclamation points. She opened the door and poked her head in. Gibby was face first in his bed.

"Hey," she said quietly. His foot flinched, as if to kick her away. She shut the door behind her and parked it on a desk squeezed into the corner. Freddie's bed was neatly made, his things put away. Gibby lay on top of tangled blankets, and socks and things peeked at Carly from under the bed.

"I just," she started, "I wanted you to know that you have a friend who you can talk to if you want."

He said nothing.

"I was the same way—with Steven. I got mad first, then later, when I was alone, I got really sad."

He wasn't moving, but she knew he wasn't asleep by his irregular breathing.

"Listen, Julianne turned out to be a real skunkbag, and she broke your trust which hurts like a butter-roll. But you have better, much more attractive, people in your friends that you can trust, Gib."

He rolled onto his back, looked up blankly at the ceiling. Evidently he hadn't shaved since his brief stay in jail. Dark blond scruff darkened his jaw. She moved and sat on Freddie's bed. "We're friends forever, remember? So talk."

He drew in a sudden breath, rolled his head on his neck to look over at her. "I think you were right."

"About what?" she asked.

He grimaced, pushed on his eyes. "Love doesn't exist."

"What?" Her stomach dropped at the sound of heartbreak in his voice.

"I was fooling myself, trusting in a lie."

"Trusting the wrong person, maybe, but—"

"No, I used to think if you felt something then it was true. I _felt_ that she loved me every time she said it." His voice cracked. "But the whole time it was some kind of sick game to her."

He sighed, rolled back onto his face. Doing so left a lot of space between him and the side of the bed. Carly moved over to his bed, dropped a hand on his back. "I'm so sorry, Gib."

_I felt that she loved me every time she said it. _Carly wondered if he'd said it back all of those times as she realized no one had said it to her since Steven, because she wouldn't let them. Carly realized she wanted that to change. She wanted someone who could potentially reduce her to the agony she saw in her old friend now. Because love did exist. It didn't last very long sometimes, but only because human mistakes killed it.

She knew that, always did. She just didn't want to admit it because of all the chiz like her parents splitting up, and Steven's lies about how much he loved her. With a sigh, she blew it all away and confessed to herself that she _wanted_ to find someone to love.

Gibby sniffed into his fitted sheet, pulling Carly out of her head. She welcomed the subject change, already feeling vulnerable just acknowledging she wanted to be loved. A friend was in need. It was time to do what she came here for, and cheer him up.

"I think Julianne really did love you all the times she said so. I don't know why she wouldn't."

Gibby turned, frowned at her. She knew he was confused that she was _rooting_ for love. She gave him her best smile, one that said _yes I _have_ come to my senses on that. Aren't you so proud of me?_, and then laughed, "You're the coolest person I know, Gib."

He sat up.

Feeling the need to lighten the mood, she laughed, "You're probably the only guy on the east coast that ever broke a guy's teeth out with a seven thousand dollar centrifuge containing vials of organic chemical acids."

Gibby laughed, a short, deep sound, ran a big hand through his hair. It was short, not styled and so flopped back limp on his head, not a sight she saw a lot. "I can't believe I lost it like that."

"I can."

His shoulders moved with a low grunt. That was all he said on the matter. Carly nudged a shoulder into his.

She stood, opened her mouth to say her goodbyes, her excuse about having to rejoin the study group. But his hand caught hers. She looked down as his fingers slid between hers.

He was looking up at her with an expression that brought spinning circles in pools and white water rapids slamming into her lower gut. Her knees acted of their own accord and bent, lowering her back down beside him. She pushed hair behind her ear, and he reached up and put the hair on the other side behind that ear, thumb trailing along her jaw and over her lips.

Carly's heart was pounding. She hadn't had a clue how much she wanted this until this moment. Gibby. Sweet. Funny. Understanding. Caring. Strong. She was close enough to see the grey flecks in his eyes again. She liked them. She liked the want in the them even more. Sharp, wonderful feelings exploded in her stomach and she leaned until she felt his breath on her lips.

She was holding hers. All she would have to do would be to breathe out and then she'd lose her grip. She would taste more Gibby-kisses, she'd be up against him, she'd be touched how she suddenly wanted to be touched—by him. Just breathe out and it would happen.

Logic brought her back to reality like a seagull swooping in to scoop up fish and swallow them whole in one fluid movement.

Rebound.

She stood again, breathed out the word, naming her murderer. Gibby went to his knees on the bed, caught her elbows in his fingers. "Wait," he said.

She pulled her arms from his grip, wanting his touch, but running from it. "Gibby, this is rebound. It'd be stupid to—" She stopped there, because her vision went blurry and with it came the memory of Gibby's words, right out of the past.

_It might be stupid to the world, but it's not to you, not if it makes you cry_. She spun around so suddenly it startled him. She hiccupped. His lips parted and he said, softly, pleadingly, "Carly."

He wanted her now, what about when he was done rebounding? Self-preservation told her to run, before she got hurt. She closed her eyes, she could still see his wanting expression and her stomach fluttered. When she opened her eyes, he was watching, breathing heavily, eyes eagerly soaking up every move she made, waiting for her answer.

It wasn't stupid if it was a friend helping a friend. He was rebounding, why not be the one to help him? She was setting herself up. But she wanted him. And he wanted her. She would only live once and she didn't want to know Gibby-love only once in that life. Logic told her to wait until he wasn't rebounding then see if he was still interested… but fear had her stepping back towards the bed because maybe he wouldn't still be interested and she didn't want to miss her chance.

She sank onto the bed beside him and kissed him. He didn't move for a minute. She pulled her lips back, "This is just to cheer you up," she warned to protect them both from getting hurt. "So no saying romantic things when we do this."

"Carly," he said suddenly, "Wait," he wouldn't let her put her lips back on his. "We don't have to—I shouldn't have, I mean—"She kissed him again to quiet him, caught his mouth open and let him taste her tongue. She broke it to say, "This is between friends, to cheer you up."

He accepted her next kiss eagerly. His hands went into her hair and he lay back on his bed, taking her with him. She loved how her body kind of slid down his and then her weight was pressing all of her against him. He was soft.

His hands slid down her back, to her bottom. She giggled. Then, all at once, he flipped her. She was on bottom. She lost her breath from the sudden thrill of it. His lips found a sweet spot on her neck and she thought she wanted to take all of her clothes off now.

So she did.

For everything she took off, he mirrored her—never letting his lips leave hers any longer than he had to. Shirt. Jeans. This was not tentative. This was not nervous. There were no awkward pauses here. When enough clothes were gone to make the sunlight filling the dorm room too much, (which was a whole bra less than last time thanks to her confidence) they wiggled under his blankets.

There were the wide shoulders just how she remembered them, just like the Gibby-kisses, though scruff lightly scratching her as he kissed her all over, that was new. So was the knowledgeable way he touched her panties this time.

She let that happen again, and again, until she lost patience, pulled them away on her own. This time, she guided him without being asked.

This time, it only hurt because it was so good.

…

Sam didn't knock on the door. Wasn't supposed to have to. And for more reasons than the absence of Spanish punctuation. One, it was only Carly and Gibby in there. Two, Gibby was heartbroken. Three, she had the other room's occupant at her side.

She and Freddie were there to tell Carly that if she'd made no progress by now, than her night would be better spent studying because Professor Dennon gave a mean exam, everyone said so.

Sam was trying her best to ignore one of Freddie's nubbiest lopsided smiles as she pushed open his door. It had only opened an inch or so before she heard enough to abort the mission, but the momentum of the action had it going open even further. It reached half way before her hand caught up to her brain and pulled it back shut.

"Oh my fat-cake god!" she cried, whirling to face Freddie who was frozen with his mouth open and his eyes unblinking, now staring at the letters of _Gibbeh_ not the skin of it.

A moment passed and it became evident that they'd disrupted no one. Not when Sam's swear was being echoed from the other side of the door.

"Since when does Carly talk like that?" Sam asked.

"How does he get a girl to say that?" Freddie cried, "_I_ wanna make girls say that!"

"Then you'll wanna start by getting some junk, Fredwoman."

His eyes narrowed. "Haha."

More swears came through the door, reminding them that they had no business lingering there. With snorts of laughter—Carly was using impressive words in not so elegant combinations, the newb—Sam and Freddie started down the hall, shaking their heads. Then Freddie's sneakers squeaked on the waxed floor as he stopped suddenly, whirled, raced back to the door.

The dry erase marker squeaked proper punctuation into place and then Freddie ran back to Sam's side, that lopsided smile came back with a shrug. Sam rolled her eyes and tamed a smile.

…

Kisses and cuddles followed Gibby's cheering up. The kisses simply wouldn't stop and the cuddles were kind of mandatory because the bed was a single and Gibby filled most of it on his own. Neither of them minded, though.

Carly sighed in deepest satisfaction. That was _fun._ She could be taken back in time and she'd make the same choice again. She didn't care what happened later, because her second go at Gibby-love just made it worth it. Gibbeh. The word had whole new meanings now.

His heart pounded with exertion under her ear. The air was cool on Carly's face, the sweat there. She laughed. He did, too.

"I wonder if it's that good for everyone," he wondered aloud, "Going back to their first after gaining some experience."

"Somehow I doubt it," Carly sighed. "I think it's just a Gibby thing."

There was a beat, then Gibby swore under his breath and pressed on his eyes.

"What?"

He looked at her, blinking green eyes, smiled, "I think I just fell in love with you, Carly."

The little breath she'd managed to catch whooshed right back out of her with a noise like she was being strangled.

"Sorry," he said. "I know you said not to—"

"No," she cut in, who cares what she said, or why, it felt _good _to hear that. She put her ear back on his chest to listen to his heart. "It's cool."


End file.
